10 Things I Hate About Potter
by LampsAreCool
Summary: Passion. Betrayal. Evil twins. Sacrifice. Possession. A COMPLETE SOAP OPERA. Featuring Snape as a shrink, Hermione as a COMPLETE MARY SUE, Draco as a drug addict, and Ron as a insanely jealous assassin. Basically, everyone is trying to kill Potter.
1. Of Moonlit Nights and Cockroach Whiskers

((A.N. You've all seen them on TV . . . _soap operas._ Dramatically overdone, extremely complicated, and hilariously cliched. So here it is . . . it was going to come eventually . . . the Harry Potter soap opera. This story contains outlandish treasures, insanely foolish Dark Lords, time travel, resurrection, evil identical twins, polyjuice potions, love triangles, ingenious plans, and long lost brothers! Let the drama begin . . .! And review.))

* * *

(Que for dramatic music to begin) 

Hermione Granger was poised above the world, on a balcony under a velvet blanket studded with diamonds. Below her, the lake glistened with sapphire-ebony ripples. She wore a flowing gown, made of midnight silk and embroidered with champagne colored pearls. Her hair, a river of golden fire, shimmered in the pallid glow of the autumn moon.

Harry Potter strode valiantly onto the balcony, and came to stand behind Hermione. For approximately five, maybe ten, minutes, they stood, staring out at the icy September evening.

"Hermione," he whispered softly, and reached a hand out to touch her back. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring his touch, before whirling around and slapping him across the face.

"Stop!" she cried, with the ferociousness of a deadly flamingo. "I can't be with you anymore, Harry!"

Harry dropped down on one knee, and hand on his broken heart. He reached out to her. "But, Hermione . . . I love you! Why not?"

She looked at him, her eyes ablaze. "You wouldn't _understand._"

With that, she wrenched herself from the balcony, silent tears pouring down her face.

"Fine!" Harry yelled to her retreating back. "I never loved you anyway! I don't need you! I . . . I . . . "

He had an emotional breakdown.

* * *

"We have but one shot, Wormtail," Lucius Malfoy whispered in a sinister fashion. "One shot to kill Harry Potter." A giant cannon was aimed directly at Harry Potter. 

He was dressed in pure black and had a giant Dark Mark on his cloak.

"Remind me again why we're killing Harry Potter, Master?" Wormtail asked. Lucius failed to see the lovesick look that Wormtail gave him.

"How many times, do I have to tell you, Wormtail? James Potter's great Uncle Eulfrid led a splendid expedition to Kazakhstan, and dug up an ancient Aborigine sacrificial landmine, which led him to the Secret Society of Bolivian Pacifists, who told him of the Sacred Chamber of Amon-Ra in Nigeria, but when he tried to fly there he crash landed on an island off of Madagascar and found a random pile of Galleons lying on the road. But that wasn't even the beginning . . ."

(Three hours later)

" . . . and that is how the Turkish barbarians found him stranded in the middle of Lake Victoria."

"And . . . where exactly did you hear this?" Wormtail asked skeptically.

"Never mind that, Wormtail. The point is that we must kill Potter in order to get the 500 million galleons that he is supposed to inherit."

"But, Master . . . if we kill Harry Potter, how will that help us inherit the money?"

"Never mind that, Wormtail. We'll get to it when it comes. Now, the cannon."

He turned to where Harry had been standing on the balcony. He was, unsurprisingly, gone.

"WORMTAIL! You messed me up again! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't ask me to recite that story ever again! _Cockroach whiskers!_" He slammed his fist down on the cannon, and it exploded, flying completely off course into a red-headed boy halfway across the lake, feeding the giant squid.

"Oops," said Lucius. "I almost hit the giant squid."

He strode away into the woods.

* * *

He had been minding his own business, really. Well, minding his own business and contemplating his relationship with Harry Potter. No, not like _that._ The relationship in general though. Harry Potter had everything he'd ever wanted. Popularity, fame, fortune. And all that he, Ron Weasely, steadfast best friend and sidekick, got, was a _maroon _sweater with an 'R' on it. Where was the justice in this? He must've been pretty angry, because he heard a voice in his head say, _"cockroach whiskers."_ He took the time to contemplate the fact that it was 'whiskers,' not 'clusters,' that the voice in his head had muttered. _Harry always liked cockroach clusters, _Ron thought angrily. _Harry always got as many as he wanted!_

He peered across the lake. _Hm, that's odd._

_Shit._

Thwack.

He awoke an obscure amount of minutes later. He struggled to remember, but then, a solitary phrase came back. _'cockroach whiskers.'_

He'd been hit. With a _cannonball._ He'd been _hit_ . . . with a cannonball.

He stared, for awhile. At the giant squid, who was undoubtedly mocking him. _Mocking _him . . . _MOCKING HIM!_

_This is the last straw! _Ron thought. Harry Potter _never _had to worry about going to the Yule Ball without a date, about money, about friends. Harry Potter _never_ got maroon sweaters for Christmas. Harry Potter _never _got hit by cannonballs at three in the _morning._

Ron Weasely was a bitter, bitter boy. He was sick and tired of being overshadowed by Harry. But most of all, he was sick and tired of the unfairness of his life. _No one_ got hit by cannonballs at three in the morning. But him.

It was time to take some action, and Ron knew _just _what to do.

* * *

"And you imbeciles failed . . ._ how_?" Voldemort spat, pacing back and forth in his Evil Lair. 

Wormtail stood in front him, sweating noticeably.

"The canon, sir . . . it accidentally went off."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "Do you . . . agree with him, Lucius?"

They both turned their attention to Lucius, who was curled in the corner, a maniacal expression on his face. His eyes darted back and forth. He was twiddling his thumbs and muttering something that sounded like 'Bolivian Pacifists.'

Wormtail removed his pitiful glance. "My Lord . . ." he said remorsefully. "I'm afraid Lucius is not entirely with us. He had occupied himself with finding an ancient treasure . . ." he lowered his voice even more, " . . . that I'm afraid does not exist."

They turned to look at Lucius, who had not even noticed they were talking, much less about him.

"Never mind that, Wormtail," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand. "Now, what is our newest plan? Assassination?Aggressive negotiations? Diplomatic solution?"

"You do realize you're quoting Star Wars, correct?" Wormtail asked quickly.

"Shut up."

"We're out of assassins, sir," Wormtail said slowly.

Just then Ron Weasely burst through the door. Voldemort, being Voldemort, stared. Lucius, being insane, continued twiddling.

"Lord Voldemort . . ." Ron said, breathing raggedly, a glint in his eyes. "I have decided to pledge my allegiance to your service."

Voldemort gave hin a calculating glance. "Why the sudden change of heart, young Weasely?"

"I was _hit _by a cannonball," Ron spat, as if this explained everything.

Lucius momentarily stopped twiddling his thumbs. His eyes darted towards Ron, before he resumed his thumb twiddling.

Voldemort considered his options. It was Weasely, or it was Lucius. He wasn't positive which one was saner, but anyhow, Weasely seemed more determined.

"I want to assassinate Harry Potter," Ron declared, his voice quiet.

"What is your price?" Voldemort interrogated

"I want a Firebolt . . . 2. I want a tawny white owl named WigHead. I want round black glasses with clear lenses. But most of all, I want free origami lessons with Dumbledore. And _no more cannonballs!_" He shot an angry glare at Lucius, and confirmed Voldemort's suspicions.

Voldemort contemplated this, looking from Lucius to Ron. Lucius, to Ron.

"You've got the job," he said with a sinister laugh.

((A.N. Random? Absolutely. Entertaining? I hope. Give me a review.))


	2. A Worthless Piece of Scum

((A.N. Ah... Chapter 2. The madness continues. Thanks to reviewers **hermyandronforevr, Fairy of the Black Oleander, me'shell's-shadow, **and **Lyly.** Our only reviewers. We love you... except for that one guy who told us our story was a complete and utter failure and that no one wants to read this worthless piece of scum. But besides that.))

Chapter 2; Draco's Past

* * *

It was Draco's fifth birthday, and his parents had given him presents. 

With wide eyes, little Draco opened his mother's present. It was a maroon sweater with a large 'D' on the front.

"Thank you, Mother," Draco said sweetly. "I will wear it to school when I am older."

His mother smiled. Draco failed to notice his father, who was throwing poisonous darts at a helpless bunny rabbit.

He picked up his father's present with an angelic expression. It had a shiny red bow on the top, and was wrapped in red and white stripes.

He peeled it open innocently. Inside of the box was a single piece of paper. Draco opened it.

_You are a worthless piece of scum. Happy Birthday. Your father._

Draco's little eyes filled with tears.

* * *

It was Draco's first time on a broom. He was seven. 

Lucius said, "Here, young Draco. Allow me to help you on."

Lucius carefully placed his son on top the broom. He took out his wand and muttered a spell.

"Have a nice trip," he said quietly, before pushing Draco off the hill.

He watched Draco tried to keep control of the broom. Little did Draco know that Lucius had lit the back of it on fire.

"AHHHHHHH!"

He crashed into the side of the hill.

"You are a worthless piece of scum!" Lucius yelled.

* * *

It was Draco's first night at Hogwarts, and the First Years had just entered their dormitories. 

"Look!" cried Crabbe. "My daddy sent me some candy!"

"My daddy sent me a new pair of shoes!" said Pansy happily.

Blaise walked in. "My daddy sent me a pack of Exploding Snap."

All three simultaneously turned toward Draco. "What'd you get, Draco?" They chorused.

Draco opened a present. It was a small ticking clock attached to a few red sticks. As Draco looked closer, he saw there was a note attached.

"You are a worthless . . . piece . . . of . . ."

BOOM.

* * *

It was Draco's first Quidditch match. His father was sitting in the stands near the announcer. 

Draco and Harry started diving for the Snitch.

"And they're neck and neck . . ." started the announcer, but Lucius grabbed the microphone out of the announcer's hands and threw him into the crowd.

"C'MON YOU SISSY! GRAB THE DAMN SNITCH!"

Harry grabbed it.

"DRACO. YOU ARE A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SCUM!"

The whole crowd started chanting _worthless piece of scum._

* * *

Draco woke up. _Bad dream, _he thought slowly. 

Draco reached onto his bedside table and took two Ibuprofen. Then two more. Two more. Two more. Two more.

He heard a pounding at his door.

He took two more.

Then he answered it.

Draco was a dark, brooding, and depressed teenager. He was an abused child. He was a fallen angel. He was an evil person. His soul was scarred permanently. People like Potter did not understand what kind of life he'd had. _No one _understood him. _No one _felt his pain, his suffering, his _agony._

He opened the door.

It was Hermione Granger.

He slammed it, took two more, and opened it again.

"Malfoy," she said dramatically. "You're a dark, brooding, and depressed teenager. I understand your pain, your suffering, your _agony. _But this isn't about you. _Your nemesis _is dying. _Harry _is dying."

"Why should _I _care? You _know _I'm only out for myself."

He looked dark, threatening, angry, and yet somehow appealing in the moonlight. He poured drain cleaner into his coffee and took a huge gulp.

Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione pulled a shiny object out of her pocket.

"You don't know what this is, do you, Draco?"

He pulled a glue bottle out of his pocket and took a whiff.

"It's a pirate medallion," he said between sniffs.

Hermione smirked.

"This is _Aztec gold. _But this is only half of the full medallion. Together, the two pieces form._ The Amulet of Destiny._ Do you know where the other half is?"

Draco injected himself with a needle of heroin.

Slowly, he pulled a shiny object out of his pocket. It was the other half of the medallion.

"Do you know what this means, Draco?"

Draco took a chug of vodka. "No."

"It means that . . . you and Harry are long. Lost. _Brothers_. You have to go to him, Draco, or he will _die_!"

Draco sighed. "You are attempting to presuppose an alternate reality in which _I actually care._"

Hermione slapped him across the face.

"I'm not quite sure I deserved that one," Draco said, confused.

"You do realize that we keep quoting _Pirates of the Caribbean, _don't you?" Hermione asked with a dramatic stomp of her foot.

"Shut up, I'm a troubled child. Woe is me . . . woe is me . . ."

While Draco was blubbering aimlessly, Hermione grabbed his wrist and dragged him to see Harry Potter.

* * *

Cho Chang was sobbing with abandon in front of Severus Snape. Normally this behavior would have invoked vomiting and other sounds of repulsion from the Potions Master, but he would restrain himself from doing so until he was off the job. Yes . . . Severus Snape had become a Motivational Psychiatrist. A _shrink. A good for nothing . . ._

_Shut up, _Snape told himself. _Pull yourself together._

Cho was looking at him oddly. Had he said that aloud?

"Well... Chang... I mean... Cho..." he started, racking his brain for some illegitimate excuse that would console the girl. Her puppy had run off into the Forbidden Forest. _It was never coming back. _

Cho was staring at him again. Had he said it out loud once more? Damn.

"See, Cho, Fluffy is only _metaphorically _lost in the woods. She need only find _herself _in order to find her way out of the woods. Do you understand?"

Cho stopped sniffing for a moment and looked up. "R . . .Really? You think so?"

"I know so," Snape said in a comforting voice. She smiled a watery smile at him.

"Thanks, Professor . . . I mean . . . counselor. . . Snape."

Snape grimaced inwardly. _That's the biggest piece of bullshit I've ever made up in my life, _he thought savagely.

Cho burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Snape had always had the crippling problem of saying things out loud. It was no good for a psychiatrist.

Ron Weasely burst into the room with a gigantic smirk that covered at least half of his demonic face. Snape was suddenly very worried.

Snape checked his wristwatch. "Your appointment isn't for another thirty minutes."

"It's _urgent,_" Ron said angrily, slamming his fists on the desk. His eyes turned red and he exhaled smoke through his nostrils.

"What is it? You're pregnant? Your family is filing bankruptcy . . . again? Or is it that you have finally become so jealous of Harry Potter that you have been hired as an assassin for the Great Lord Voldemort in order to obtain compensation for your otherwise worthless and mundane existence?"

Ron smiled. "I need a weapon. A _really . . . _big . . . weapon."

"I think I know what you are referring to," Snape said quietly.

Ron's expression became horrified as Snape began unbuttoning his robes.

"Do you mean . . . this!" Snape roared, throwing open his cloak.

Ron screamed and covered his eyes, backing away.

"No, you idiot!" Snape roared. "Look!"

Ron took a peak through his fingers. On the inside of Snape's robes were a thousand knives, guns, tranquilizers, grenades, and all other manner of threatening weapons.

"I'll take them all!" Ron hissed evilly, slamming down a giant bag of Galleons. Snape decided not even to ask where Ron had gotten those from. He just accepted.

"I want to make sure Potter is good and dead," Ron said quietly. "Give me ten bullets for every reason that I hate Potter."

Snape handed Ron one hundred bullets with a smirk.

"Give me the cloak too," Ron wheedled. There was no way he could be inconspicuous with guns, knives, and grenade launchers hanging out of his pockets.

"No," Snape said slowly.

Snape awoke some time later. He had no cloak. It had been his favorite cloak. He was bitter.

"Damn. He got away," Snape growled with conviction.

* * *

Ron was romping about the halls of Hogwarts with a giant rocket launcher mounted on his shoulder. Seven knives were hanging off of his belt, and under the cloak were various weapons of all shapes and sizes. 

"Hi, Ron," Parvati chirruped, smiling at him as he stomped down the hall.

"Where's Harry?" Ron interrogated, a maniacal grin plastered onto his face.

"He went that way," Parvati said casually,

Ron turned like a jackal catching scent of a rabbit.

"_Death,"_ he hissed satanically.

He trotted down the hall, balancing the humongous and indiscreet rocket launcher. He loaded it up.

Professor McGonagall suddenly stepped into his path. She looked at the massive gun once and frowned.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Weasely?" she questioned, concern coming over her features.

Ron rotated his head 360 degrees and projectile vomited to the right of her person. A hole seared into the wall where the vomit had been.

"Everything is _fine,_" Ron said heinously, grinning a bright sharp grin. His eyes turned red and he scampered away without another word.

"Teenage hormones," McGonagall observed nonchalantly, and pulled out her wand to clean up the acid on the wall.

((A.N. Next time . . . Tom Riddle comes back from the dead, Ginny discovers that she has an evil twin sister, Blaise has a sex change . . . again, and Draco races to catch up with Harry. Lucius and Wormtails assassination attempts go awry because of a certain red-headed maniac, and Snape councils more people. The drama.))


	3. Airline Food

((A.N. Chapter. Probably the most random chapter ever written, but whatever, the chapter makes sense. Kind of... Thanks to reviewers **MrS-SiRiUs-BlAcK** and **corset, **who are very supportive of us even though our story is awful. THIS IS A PARODY. Worthless humans . . .))

* * *

Chapter 3; Airline Food

Ginny had always been a problematic child.

"Mom!" Percy had called from the kitchen ten years ago. Ginny had been only five, an innocent and angelic child, half of the time. "Ginny tried to kill the cat again!"

Molly entered the drawing room, a spatula clutched in her hand.

"How many times do I have to tell you, honey? Murdering innocent and guileless creatures in the house is just not The Right Thing To Do."

Ginny, with her large brown eyes and red hair in pigtails, tugged the bottom of her cotton jumper and beamed up innocently at her mother.

"But Mommy," Ginny complained helplessly, "_She _made me do it."

"She?" Molly asked, slightly confused.

"Yes," Ginny said, her eyes going wide in the twilight. "The _other one_. She is always watching . . . She visits me when no one else is around."

"Stop it, Ginny. I don't expect behavior like this from my own daughter."

"_I am your daughter._"

Lightning flashed in the background, and scary music emanated from an unknown location. The door slammed shut behind Molly, and Ginny smiled a vague and carefree smile. A trail of blood trickled out of her mouth.

"Ginny, dear . . ." Molly started in an exasperated tone, "you're dripping ketchup out of your mouth again. Here, let me clean you up . . ."

Molly moved toward her daughter, clutching a cotton handkerchief. She extended her arm toward Ginny tentatively. The innocent redhead bared her three-inch long fangs in a heinous snarl and snapped at her mother's hand. In moments she had torn the handkerchief to shreds.

Molly backed out of the room with a deafening scream, horror plastered over her usually amiable features.

The sun burst over the horizon and birds began to chirp cheerily. White, puffy clouds were plastered in place of the thunderclouds, and innocent animals pranced around the house.

Ginny smiled a vague and carefree smile, scooping up the kitten and stroking it with adoration.

"Hello, little kitty," she said innocently. She pulled out a large cherry lollipop and hastened outside to frolic in the fields.

* * *

"You pissed me _off. _You _pissed _me off. You pissed _me _off . . . ! _You _pissed me off!"

It wasn't working. Viktor Krum just couldn't get his speech right.

"I've got it!" he yelled, staring avidly at the poster of Harry Potter. "YOU PISSED ME OFF!"

_Yes, yes, I remember the day when it all started... started. We . . . us . . . that is, Harry and I , were playing a Quidditch Game . . . a game of Quidditch. It was a close match, close game, close Championship of the Universe. I was so close to victory, so close to victory was I, that I could taste it in my mouth. Then he, Harry Potter, snatched the Snitch. He snitched the snatch! But that wasn't all, no it wasn't. In the locker room, Potter confronted me about his victory. Said he, "Good game."_

"_Good game," he said. I know what he meant, he meant what he said . . . he meant **I was inferior. **Inferior, was I? I was inferior? I am inferior._

"INFERIOR!" Krum roared aloud.

He would get Potter back. Potter . . . he would get. He would prove his mettle. His mettle he would prove.

He would hire an assassin.

He did not have enough money for an assassin.

Money, he had not.

He would _become_ an Assassin.

* * *

"Password, deary?"

Draco delivered a solid uppercut directly to the center of the Gryffindor painting. The picture crashed to the floor, and the door to the Common Room flew open.

Hermione caught up with him, and stared in dismay at the shattered painting.

"I could have just _given _you the password," she stated lightly, gaping in disbelief.

"_I don't need your help,"_ Draco intoned dramatically, rushing inside the Common Room. A needle fell out of his pocket.Hermione followed quickly in his wake.

Instantly she realized that there was a problem. Directly in the center of the room was a blatantly obvious circle drawn in chalk. A coiled rope was dangling conspicuously inside the circle. There was a large sign that read STEP HERE, POTTER in capital letters.

Lucius and Wormtail held up paper trees near the circle. As Hermione and Draco walked in, Lucius quickly covered his face with the 'tree' and tried to look discreet.

"I am a tree," he said aloud. "We are inanimate objects. Pay no attention to our dealings."

Harry strode valiantly down the stairs of the Boy's Dormitory, and trumpets blared in the distance, announcing the Hour of Reckoning.

He started to approach the small circle of chalk.

"Judgement Day," Lucius whispered, before resuming his existence as an inanimate object.

Harry stepped closer, closer, and Draco and Hermione only stood with their mouths agape, eyes wide with shock.

A hiss was suddenly audible behind them.

"_Potter,_" came a sadistic voice. There was the sudden pounding of feet, and a red blur rushed forth. What was that on his back? A _rocket launcher_? He ran at Harry, but before he could get very far, he stepped inside the white circle and was suddenly propelled into the air. Everyone looked up to see Ron Weasely, dangling near the ceiling in a white net.

"Ron!" Harry cried, his voice filled with concern.

"_Weasely,_" hissed Lucius. "You foiled my ingenious plan! I mean . . . _I am a tree_."

He jumped out of the nearest open window.

Wormtail followed hesitantly.

"Aw, Ron," Harry said, gazing up at the boy struggling in the net. "You didn't have to do that. What would I do without my _best buddy _and _inferior sidekick _to keep me out of danger? I love you, man."

Ron clawed at the net and hissed satanically at Harry. He was overcome with anger.

"Well . . ." Harry said amiably, in a nonchalant tone. "I've got to go. Popularity and unrivaled fame have their demands . . . maybe I could catch you later for a game of Quidditch? Goodbye, then, my_ substandard acquaintance_!"

He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the fire.

"But, Harry, I–" Hermione started melodramatically. There were tears in her eyes.

"I don't _need _you anymore," Harry said contemptuously, sending her a cold and apathetic glance. Then he threw himself into the green flames before he could have another emotional breakdown.

"NO!" Hermione screamed painfully, and threw herself after him in slow motion. The fire had long disappeared by the time she crashed against the back of the fireplace. She sobbed pitifully into the ashes.

Draco, who had been snorting cocaine and muttering about his angst-ridden life for the past twenty minutes, finally looked up.

"Did I miss something?" he intoned sardonically, looking up at the net. "And why is Weasel up on the ceiling?"

Hermione looked up dismally. The net had apparently been incinerated, and was charred black. Ron was nowhere in sight.

He observed Hermione sobbing pathetically and covered in ashes.

He sat down on the armchair in front of her, a bourbon clutched precariously in his hand.

"Here's what I think, Granger . . . you really have to get over this _Harry_ guy. He's probably an alcoholic anyway," Draco intoned, smacking his empty shot glass onto the table.

Hermione stopped crying and looked up in disbelief. He muttered to himself for a couple of seconds before continuing.

"You know, love is like . . . _airline food."_

"Airline food?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"You've got your vinegar drenched salad that drips onto the main course, which is usually freeze dried lasagna. Then they give you these sour little _fruit treats _that make your mouth pucker after one bite. And then you've got those . . . _muffins_ . . ."

"Muffins?" Hermione inquired.

"_Muffins," _Draco repeated disdainfully. He lit up his opium pipe and took a large whiff. "Don't take this the wrong way, but . . ." he closer and cupped his hands around her ear, " . . . _I think Harry's a muffin_."

"Well . . ." Hermione started reasonably, "he _does_ look a bit like a pastry."

She held up his baby picture, and Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yep . . . I thought so. He has a big enough head."

Hermione sipped some more champagne.

"All in all," Draco continued in a philosophical tone, "airline food is awful and disgusting and gross, but every once in a great while, it's . . . well, repulsive and abhorrent and _obscene_. And that's why airplane food compares to love."

"I agree," Hermione said firmly, "but that didn't make me feel any better, Malfoy."

He passed out.

((Next chapter . . . Ginny REALLY discovers she has an evil twin sister, Snape counsels Dr. Phil, Lucius and Wormtailcome up with an even stupider plan, and Draco wakes up and realizes he is passionately in love with Hermione.))


	4. Oil Prices and Velvet Handcuffs

((A.N. We are not trying to make fun of suicidal people. We merely noticed that it was a common theme in soap operas. Thank you, everyone who reviewed.))

* * *

"Did you notice that I never cough on live television?" Dr. Phil asked Snape in a conversational tone. 

Snape gave him a blank stare.

He had been slightly surprised, to say the least, when Dr. Phil booked an appointment for his counseling service. However, he was in no position to turn Dr. Phil down.

"I mean, everyone coughs on live television," Dr. Phil said persistently.

"I didn't notice," said Snape stonily. _That's because I don't watch Dr. Phil, _he thought savagely. _I wouldn't watch that show if it was the last thing on the air._

Dr. Phil burst into tears.

"I said it out loud again, didn't I?" Snape asked pungently.

Phil blew his overly large nose on Snape's newly graded test papers. It was alright, Snape supposed. That one was only Potter's.

"I'm . . . _a cough syrup addict!_" Dr. Phil said, afterwards having a complete emotional breakdown.

Snape grimaced.

"Listen, Doctor . . . I mean, Phil . . . you are only _metaphorically _addicted to cough syrup. Do you understand what I am talking about?"

Phil stopped crying for a moment. "I . . . well . . . I think so," he said between sniffles. "Do you mean that . . .?"

"Time's up!" Snape said suddenly, checking his wristwatch. "We will discuss this matter more on Monday, when your next appointment is scheduled. How's that sound?"

"But I never scheduled an–"

"Off you go," Snape said darkly, flinging open the door with his wand. He smirked as Dr. Phil hastily left.

"Next on my list is . . . Weasely? Weasely _again?_" Snape asked in biting tone.

The door crept open slowly, and the candles blew out. An ominous presence emanated from the doorway, and Ginny Weasely stepped inside.

"The other one," she said faintly.

He had never liked the Weaselys.

"What did you come in for, Weasely?" Snape asked her as he tapped his quill on the table. The veil over her head was making him nervous.

"You know of what it is I speak. _One by one, it has consumed us all_," Ginny hissed in an malevolent voice.

"Hollywood affairs? The fast food industry? Insanity? The latter seems to run in your family, after all."

It was true, thought Snape. One by one, he began ticking off names in his head. _There's Ron, of course, _Snape thought. Ron sat outside his window, sharpening a knife, laughing quietly to himself and muttering about 'revenge' and 'Potter.' _Then there's Fred and George . . . never trust identical twins, I say. Could be muffins. Bill looked pretty innocent, but in the end he turned out be an international jewel thief for Gringotts. That's why he dug up those mummy tombs in Egypt. Necromaniac. Charlie ran off to get himself scorched to death by dragons! Pyromaniac. And then there's Percy . . ._

"We don't really know what's wrong with him, and that's the scary part," Ginny finished for him. Snape looked dismayed.

"You heard me?"

"You were talking out loud, Professor."

"Disregarding that string of thought, Weasely . . . tell me again why you're here."

"You see, Professor, it's _the other one._"

"The other one?"

"She comes to me at night and talks to me. _She never sleeps,_" Ginny whispered fearfully.

"Tell me more about this . . . _other one_," Snape intoned wearily.

"Sometimes I feel happy, Professor Snape, and sometimes I feel angry. It's like there's two people inside my head. One is sweet and innocent Ginny, and the other IS REALLY PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW. And . . well . . . the mean and evil Ginny takes control at the most inconvenient times. It's a bother, really. I'm terribly sorry to take up your time. NOW GET ME A CURE YOU SISSY."

"Yes, indeed, indeed . . ." Snape muttered to himself, "You are harboring a strong case of multiple personality disorder . . . I have just the thing for you, Weasely."

He pulled out a pair of velvet handcuffs.

"Oops. Not those," he said quietly, shoving the handcuffs back into his cloak. He rummaged around a bit more, and an unlabeled videotape fell out of the cloak. Wait. It was labeled. It was called 'Naked Fishing.' It was a home video. Snape covered it quickly with his foot.

"This!" he said at last, pulling out a potion. "If you take this potion, all of your problems will be solved, young Weasely. Well, time's up, see you later. And don't mention that, uh . . . video tape."

"Sure thing," Ginny said, hurrying out.

* * *

Draco woke up. 

"I'm passionately in love with Hermione," he realized suddenly.

It was only then that he noticed half the Gryffindor student body was clustered around him.

_Shit, _was his one and only thought.

"I was delirious. I had a fever," he said flatly. He checked his pockets with an ominous feeling.

"Where are my ecstacy pills?" Draco asked, a note of panic in his voice.

Neville, looking guilty, handed him the bottle. It was half empty.

He was having a crisis. It was not enough ecstacy. He downed the pills in one gulp.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked forcefully.

"She went that way," Lavender said lightly, pointing to the Quidditch Pitch.

"I _know _that!" Draco roared angrily. "I don't need help from a Mudblood! I didn't ask for help from a Gryffindor! None of you understand my pain!" he cried dramatically, and ran in the direction Lavender had pointed.

* * *

Hermione looked up into the glittering night sky (no one knew when it had become night), and a single tear streaked down her otherwise completely flawless face. 

_Why has it come to this? _Hermione thought despairingly. _Harry doesn't love me, no one loves me . . . I might as well take my own life._

From the depths of a plot hole came a gleaming dagger, its malicious beauty quite like that of Draco's. It had a glimmering black luster, and the starlight gave it a sinisterly dark aura.

She held it to her broken heart, preparing to plunge the dagger into her chest.

"You can't do it, can you?" came a voice from behind her.

"No."

"I wouldn't be able to do it either," Draco answered softly. "I never had the courage."

"It's not that, Draco," Hermione replied. "The knife isn't sharp enough."

She threw the dagger back into the plot hole, which closed up quickly.

"How did you know I was here, Draco?" she asked, changing the subject.

"My heart told me so." Draco shoved a few Prozac pills into his mouth while she wasn't looking.

Hermione refused to admit to herself that this was complete bullshit.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Draco?"

"God damn you, Granger! 90 of putts short of the hole don't go in. I hate you, I despise you, I absolutely _loathe_ you! But that's not all! You make me sick, you make me ill, you are the bane of my existence. Oil costs are steadily rising! We were never meant to be together . . . I am salt and you are pepper, I am black and you are white, I am good and you are evil, I am dark and you are light, I am rubber and you are glue, I am morning, you are night, I am water and you are oil, you are wrong and I am right! We were never meant to be. The capital of North Korea is Pyongyang and _no one_ knows how to pronounce that! The Gods have made our relationship highly improbable . . . but _not _impossible. I hate you but GODDAMN IT I LOVE YOU!"

The entire Hogwarts population had filed into the bleachers, and now they burst into wild applause.

"You're right, Draco," Hermione said softly, as if she had come to a revelation.

"Really?"

"Oilcosts _are_ steadily rising," she said simply.

"You suck, Granger."

Draco swallowed a small vile of unlabeled liquid before stomping off moodily, and Hermione wondered what she had done wrong.

* * *

"We have but one chance, Wormtail," Lucius whispered furtively, "to lock Harry Potter in this cage." 

"But, Lucius, why are we trying to lock him in this cage again?"

Lucius gave him an icy stare. Then, with a condescending air, he muttered, "Never mind that, Wormtail. Never mind that at all."

The cage was stationed in a conspicuous location, to be truthful. It was right in front of the Hogwarts lake. If Lucius looked closely, he could see the sleek head of the giant squid gliding through the water.

"First things first," Lucius said boldly. "Our camouflage."

He commenced in pulling out a small jar of black war paint. He unscrewed the cap with a maniacal glint in his eye and dipped his finger inside. Carefully, he drew two thin lines below his eyes. He also put some of the goo on Wormtail.

"Now . . . the cage!" Lucius said, and Wormtail could tell he was growing overly excited about The Plan.

Lucius strode pompously over to the cage, and beckoned for Wormtail to follow. Lucius failed to noticed how indiscreet the cage actually was. It was at least twelve feet tall, and had an enormous open metal door.

"First . . ." Lucius whispered excitedly, "we throw this giant and unappetizing slab of meat into the cage!"

He took out a dripping, nauseating piece of beef and hurled it into the far back of the cage. "Perfect," he said softly.

"Okay, Wormtail. Pretend I am Harry Potter. I see the meat. I want the meat. I walk into the cage . . ."

Lucius meandered into the cage, looking smug with his plan. Wormtail frowned worriedly.

"Then!" he exclaimed vigorously, pulling out the key. "We SLAM the door shut!"

He dramatically slammed the door, enclosing himself within the metal bars.

"Lucius . . ." Wormtail started apprehensively.

"Then we LOCK THE DOOR!" he cried, completely losing control. He had lost all sense of reality.

"And finally we throw the key . . . INTO THE LAKE!" he said, casting the silver key into the middle of the lake. It hit the surface with a thump and sank.

He started laughing hysterically at the complete and total genius of his plan.

Ten minutes later, when he finally stopped laughing, he tried the door to the cage and found that it was locked.

He rattled the bars.

He rattled harder.

This was A Very Bad Thing Indeed.

"Wormtail, you idiot! Look what you've done!" Lucius roared, overcome with rage. "You are an unimaginable imbecile and an inconceivable half-wit! You worthless piece of scum, you rat-faced numbskull, you don't deserve to walk on the cursed soil of this inadequate excuse for an educational institution . . ."

Lucius trailed off, and his eyes widened as he stared out at the lake.

"It's Potter, Wormtail! Out there in the lake! Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight, proclaim him in the street, incense his kinsmen . . . PLAGUE HIM WITH FLIES!"

Wormtail stared at Lucius. He was quoting Shakespeare . . . he had completely gone over the deep end. "What?" Wormtail asked wearily.

"It means go get the key, you idiot!" Lucius said, exasperated, straining through the bars of the cage to gaze at Harry, who was swimming obliviously in the lake.

Wormtail took a valiant plunge into the icy depths of the lake, and barely missed the fifty foot rocks that had appeared out of a plot hole for suspense. He sputtered, shivering pathetically in the lake and gazing below the surface. He searched desperately for any sign of the blasted key.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, he saw a glint of silver reflecting off of the rocks.

"Gotcha," he whispered with a smile, and dove under the water.

* * *

He had been minding his own business really. Well, minding his own business and trying to brutally murder Harry Potter. 

Ron would run Harry over with the giant squid. It was a perfect plan. Harry swam nonchalantly in the water, unaware that he was about to meet his demise.

"Kill, obliterate, defeat, decimate, assassinate, destroy, incinerate, eliminate, desecrate, extinguish, exterminate, annihilate!"

He was slightly obsessed with killing Harry Potter.

He kicked the giant squid. "Faster, _faster, _I say! Run him over!" Ron roared, laughing berserkly.

He was closing in on his target . . . ten feet away . . . five feet away . . .

"I've got it!" came a meek and squeaky voice. A shape suddenly emerged from within the black depths of the all consuming lake. It was hideous, it was a monster, it was . . . Pettigrew?

Wormtail's eyes widened as the giant squid rammed into him and skidded hopelessly off course, completely missing Harry.

"It's not_ possible_," Ron muttered as he watched a silver object fly out of Wormtail's hand.

* * *

Lucius watched as the giant squid rammed into Wormtail and missed Potter completely. In slow motion he watched the key sail smoothly out of Wormtial's hand and toward the cage, toward the cage . . . 

It hit a bar and bounced uselessly five feet away.

Lucius stared.

"COCKROACH WHISKERS!" he roared, unappreciative of the irony in the situation. He slammed his fist against the door in a fit of blind rage.

The cage door creaked open.

He began to appreciate the irony in the situation.

Lucius had One Last Plan. He picked up the piece of revolting beef and chucked it in the lake.

The giant squid went after it. His plan was working.

* * *

"NOO!" Ron cried in disbelief, as the squid turned away from Harry Potter. It raced after a hunk of obscene beef. Where had that come from? 

"No, you fool! Go after Potter! _Potter, I say!_"

Harry had at this point reached the shore of the lake and was chatting with one of the local merpeople.

"Ron, he's such a clown," Harry said with an affectionate chuckle. "Riding on the giant squid like that, pretending to try to run me over . . . completely sabotaging every possible chance at assassination that Lucius and Wormtail have attempted . . I mean, what would I do without the _flea bitten plebeian?_"

Ron heard this loud and clear.

* * *

Wormtail had straggled back to shore. 

"Lucius . . ." he gasped despairingly, "our plan is ruined!"

"Nyo," Lucius said slowly, with a malicious smirk. "That piece of beef is really . . . A TIME BOMB!"

They simultaneously pulled out blinking detonators and grinned psychotically. The squid had almost reached the piece of meat.

"On my mark, Wormtail! Three . . . two . . . one . . .OBLITERATE!"

There was a large explosion.

The giant squid and Ron skyrocketed into the air, and Ron was nowhere in sight when the giant squid landed. It was unharmed.

"Weasely's out of the way!" Lucius roared happily.

Harry walked back to the castle completely unscathed.

((A.N. So . . .? We have a question for you reviewers at home... which subplot would you like to see more of? Maniacal **Lucius**? Cocky **Harry**? Insanely jealous **Ron**? Cliche **Hermione**? Creepy horror movie **Ginny**? Psychiatrist **Snape**? And there's always **Draco**...

So tell us! Which one is your favorite?))


	5. Ten Things They Hate About Potter

((A.N. When I asked you last chapter which character you wanted to see more of, Draco won by a mile. Unfortunately, we couldn't fit him in this chapter, but it's almost all Draco/Hermione next chapter. Snape is our personal favorite, as you've probably realized. We put him in almost every chapter. Two things: this story is very Americnized and we're sorry about that, it's just that we know nothing about Britian. Second: we have been and will be making fun of numerous American celebrities, political figures, and companies, but don't get us wrong. We love Dr. Phil. And one more thing. This story is definitely, 100 not co-written. I just have multiple personalities.))

Chapter 5; Ten Things They Hate About Potter

"_Seven days," _Ginny hissed.

She was reading the expiration date on the potion Snape had given her.

The potion did not have a name. It was labeled with a single question mark. She got the feeling that it was not a Ministry approved potion.

She uncorked the potion, staring moodily into the crackling flames.

_What do I have to lose? _Ginny thought. Lightning flashed in the background and freaky music started playing again.

She read the back of the potion and had to squint. It was in extremely small print.

"Ingredients: textodextorin(blowfish toxin), petrol, raw liver, cyanide, baking soda, cobra venom, basilisk eyes, old seafood, unicorn blood, scorpion tails, liquid carbon monoxide, mercury, butter . . ."

Ginny gasped. "I can't take this potion! The saturated fat content is harmful to my health! Besides, it'll make me fat!"

She reconsidered her options. Snape had said it was "the answer to all of her problems." _Does that include weight loss, too? _Without thinking about it, she took a chug of the thick, cement-like potion.

She swallowed it.

Nothing happened.

_Or so it seemed. _

The electromagnetic charges in the atmosphere collided, which resulted in an abundance of negative particles. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, rain lashed against the windowsill, and the window shattered. The unstoppable forces of air, water, fire, and earth banded together in a tumultuous and awe inspiring explosion of light and sound.

A lightning bolt split Ginny in two like a malicious dagger.

In the torrential cataclysm, Ginny split into two separate beings by the forces of nature. Good and evil, light and dark, man and woman, yin and yang, Democrat and Republican, Israel and Palestine, cat and dog, Communist and Capitalist, AOL and A Reliable Internet Service.

There were two Ginnys. Except there weren't. Except there were.

"Who are you?" said Ginny #1.

"I'm you," said Ginny #2.

"You're me?" replied Ginny #1.

"No . . . I'm you, but you are not me."

"So you're me but I'm not you?"

"No! You are you, but I am not me."

"Then who are you?"

"Me, of course!"

"But you just said you weren't you!"

"No! I said I wasn't me!"

"But if you are not me, but I am you, then the logistics of me being you are more likely than you being me, because technically, if I'm you then you're not necessarily–"

"Shut up," Ginny #2 hissed. "I'm going to kill Potter and that's all you need to know."

"Who are you?" asked Ginny #1.

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough," Ginny #2 cried, before whirling out the door.

"No! Where are you . . .?"

It had happened at last.

The Parting of the Ways.

Ginny had been split into identical twins . . . Good Ginny and Evil Ginny.

Good Ginny had to find a way to kill herself. Literally.

* * *

Ron awoke an obscure amount of minutes later. 

He struggled to remember what happened to him. Then one solitary phrase came back to him.

"_Flea-bitten plebeian . . ."_

He had been decimated. By an _indecent_ piece of beef.

Ron looked at his surroundings tentatively. He was standing on a barren desert plain, and the wind gusted in a lonely fashion across the sandy dunes. It seemed that the blast from the explosion had carried him all the way to the Sahara Desert.

There was a lone cactus standing in front of him, which was undoubtedly _mocking _him. Mocking him. MOCKING HIM!

He incinerated the cactus fit of anger, before realizing that it would probably have been a good source of water.

Ron saw a dinner plate on the horizon. It was a rather large dinner plate, and he took a moment to contemplate the fact that there was no food on it. _It looks a bit like the one that Mum used on Christmas to carve the turkey, except that this one is twirling around like a merry-go-round, and now there's this pretty pink light . . ._

The dinner plate abducted him. _Rather an odd business, this dinner plate, _was the last thing he remembered thinking, before blacking out.

* * *

Snape was reading the newspaper. 

It was not amusing him.

_Is Somebody Trying to Kill Potter?_

_An abandoned orphan who fights for justice. The champion of those who cannot defend themselves. The Savior of the World. Harry Potter seems like a pretty likeable guy, right? But what do people really think about Harry Potter?_

"_The question of late is not, 'Who is trying to kill Potter?'" says private investigator Percy Weasely, "it is rather, 'Who is _not _trying to kill Potter?"_

_We have complied a list of everything we dislike about the valiant hero._

_The ten things we hate about Potter:_

_10. "He beat me at a Quidditch game for the world cup! Beat me, he did!" – Viktor Krum_

_9. "He broke up with me . . . on our anniversary!" – Hermione Granger_

_8. "I am an angst-ridden teenager, my pain is too deep for Potter to understand. NO ONE understands me, least of all Potter! He's made it worse, and-" – Draco Malfoy_

_7. "I was bullied as a child." – Severus Snape._

_6. "He is bigheaded, arrogant git who thinks that he is the King of the Universe! And he called me fat!" – Cho Chang_

_5. "I am an Evil Twin. I must live up to my reputation by killing Potter." – 'Evil' Ginny_

_4. "We are attempting to assassinate Potter in order to obtain the 500 million Galleons that his great Uncle Eulfrid left behind. Our next plan is the best one yet." – Lucius Malfoy_

_3. "What he said." – Peter Pettigrew (Isn't he supposed to be dead?)_

_2. "Harry gets everything that he wants just because he is famous and he is Potter! What does his unappreciated sidekick get? Nothing! I have gone over to the dark side! Next time we meet, Potter, you're mine!" – Ron Weasely_

_P.S. "Not like that."_

_1. "I am evil." – Voldemort, Lord of the Dark_

_It seems to us as if this Harry Potter is a pretty hateable guy-_

Snape closed the paper with a snap.

He had never been bullied as a child.

Suddenly, Potter strutted in pompously

"Good day professor!" Harry said carelessly, "I believe I had an appointment today!"

Snape gave him an icy black glare.

He did not remember Potter making an appointment.

"I take it you read the paper this morning. Pretty hilarious, huh?" Potter questioned loudly. Snape swore under his breath. "I find it hilarious how much attention the media puts on me! What a funny article! Ha! People trying to kill me? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard . . ."

"Do you have a particular reason to be here today, Potter?" Snape interrogated.

"Oh, you're such a comedian," laughed Harry, and held up one of Snape's prized wine bottles. "How old is this wine? Fifteen years?" He popped it open with an anonymous cork screw. "I know you won't mind if I take a little _sip._"

Snape started fingering the knife in his robe in an agitated manner.

"So about my appointment . . ." Harry said casually, "you should have seen it the other day, Professor. There were a couple of trees in the Gryffindor Common Room, and a big red X . . ."

Snape stopped listening. His eyes remained on the wine bottle.

" . . . trees jumped out the window . . . demon on ceiling . . . Lucius in cage . . . riding on giant squid . . . twin detonators . . . obscene piece of beef . . . explosion and merpeople . . .!"

"It seems that you have not been taking the medication I prescribed to you," Snape said dryly, twirling the knife in his hands. "Let me . . . _renew _it."

He pulled out a vile of rattlesnake venom. Harry grabbed it without looking at it.

"Why, thanks, Professor!"

"Let me explain your problem to you," Snape started in a deceptively soft tone. "You are only _metaphorically _sitting in my office right now. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"No," Harry said blankly.

"_Get out," _hissed Snape.

"Well, I don't really think I–"

He levitated Harry out the window.

That was that.

* * *

He'd always wondered what the inside of a dinner plate looked like. Ron observed nonchalantly that the walls were a rather tacky shade of pink. 

A small green creature came up to him.

"We come in peace," it said mechanically. He considered his situation for a moment. Perhaps he had been shrunken to the size of a bacteria, and now one was talking to him. That would explain why the dinner plate looked so big. He took a moment to contemplate the philosophical repercussions of this.

The bacteria gave him water.

He came to his senses an obscure amount of minutes later. He was no longer delirious. The bacteria was staring at him in rapturous fascination.

It was not a bacteria. He had been abducted by aliens . . . gay aliens, or so it would seem. Perhaps they merely had a fetish for pink.

"What is your business with me?" Ron interrogated.

"We are conducting research on the male anatomy of the human body," the alien/bacteria said with zealous smile. So it _was_ a gay ship.

"We will be conducting our research later. For now we are searching for the Chamber of Amon Ra in Nigeria. We will be back."

The aliens aborted the ship, and Ron quickly obliterated his bonds.

He smirked demonically. Now it was only a matter of time before Potter met his inevitable demise. He would hijack the ship and fly it to Hogwarts where he would eliminate Potter with the push of a button.

At last, he had found a big enough weapon.

((A.N. Next time: Draco and Hermione finally get some action, Lucius cooks up a plan even worse than his last one (yes, that is actually possible), that involves a crocodile, a mop, a curling iron, and of course, a cannon. And what is Snape doing in a nunnery?))


	6. Wringley Brothers Meets Cleopatra

((**A.N. Disclaimer: **The myriad beliefs pertaining to religion of any kind henceforth presented in this narrative/manifesto/dialogue are solely for the entertainment/amusement of our somewhat delusional readership and have no bearing whatsoever on our personal religious and moral sentiments and should not, therefore, be taken with any kind of disposition save frivolity and insouciance.))

* * *

Chapter 6; Wringley Brothers Meets Cleopatra Meets Steve Erwin 

Hermione was on a train, and had a one way ticket to Dallas. She wasn't coming back. There was nothing for her in Hogwarts.

_What purpose do I have in this world? _Hermione thought despairingly. _Why does nobody love me? What have I done to deserve this? Why should I bow down to my destiny? Is there even such thing as destiny? Is man inherently good or evil? Is there even such a thing as good or evil? Why is the sky blue? Is there life after death? Where did we come from? What is beyond the universe!_

Hermione had a panic attack.

"I can't figure it out!" she screamed to the stars. "I'm supposed to be a know-it-all, and yet I can't answer these _simple _questions! I'm useless, I'm good for nothing! I'm a Worthless...Piece...of Scum!"

"_No_," said a voice from outside of the train window, "_No you're not_."

Hermione looked outside. "Dr- Draco!" she asked in shock. "What are you doing at a train station at three in the morning?"

"I came here to tell you something. _I don't want you to go._"

_"Why do you care _about someone like me, Draco!_"_

_"_Because _I'm madly in love with you!_"

"You told me _love was like airline food! _But now I see that _you don't even understand that!_" Hermione shouted, and slapped him across the face.

The train started moving slowly, and Draco walked alongside of it, injecting himself with morphine in the meantime.

_"I don't care if you love me or not, but I love you, Hermione Granger!"_

_"Why are we talking in all italics?" _Hermione yelled pensively. The train was speeding up, and Draco had to jog to keep level with her window.

_"I don't know, but I do know that I love you! I want you to take my hand. Trust me! Just this once."_

He extended his hand through the window, running full speed to keep up with the train. Hermione looked at his hand furtively, and finally put her hand in his own, whispering, "_Don't you dare let go._"

The train made a 179 degree turn the moment she took his hand, and she went flying out of the train compartment. Draco still held her hand, but she sailed twenty feet into the air. With a thump they both landed at the top of a hill, and began rolling down, entangled with one another. Hermione felt them crash through a roof.

"You must let go of these feelings," Snape counseled the group of nuns dryly. "By religious tradition, nuns are not allowed to have contact with–"

There was a crash directly above them. Two entangled teenagers landed on top of one another on the middle of the alter.

"_I love you, Draco Malfoy!_" the girl screamed to the boy on top of her.

They began passionately making out on the nunnery floor.

He had never liked the Malfoys.

"Oh, my," said one of the nuns, her eyes widening. Another nun fainted.

Draco looked up from his endeavors and caught Snape's eye.

"Is that _you, _Professor Snape?"

"I do not give motivational speeches to the nuns in my spare time," Snape said sardonically, before he skirted nervously out the door.

"Wait, Draco," said Hermione suddenly. "We can only be in a relationship under one condition . . it's your _drugs_ or _me_."

Draco took out his opium pipe and looked at it longingly. It was Hermione, or the drugs. He had to choose. After having a long and drawn out internal debate in his mind, he raised the opium pipe above his head.

"_I don't need you," _he told the pipe, before bringing it down upon his knee. It split into two and clattered to the ground.

He began pulling drugs out of his pocket as he recited them.

"I don't need marijuana, I don't need opium, I don't need tobacco, I don't need morphine, I don't need Prozac, I don't need crack, I don't need Methamphetamine hydrochloride, I don't need Valium, I don't need steriods, I don't need Angel Dust, I don't need LSD, I don't need liquid carbon monoxide, I don't need alcohol, I don't need amphetamines, I don't need speed, I don't need heroin, I don't need smack, I don't need Vicaden, I don't need crystal meth, I don't need ecstacy, I don't need hallucinogens, I don't need drain cleaner, I don't need vodka, I don't need cocaine, I don't need Ibuprofen, I don't need permanent glue, I don't need battery acid, and I don't need these . . ." he stopped, looking at the small vile of pills he had taken out, "what are these? I don't even know. I don't even care!"

An enormous pile of pills, bottles, viles, pipes, cans, and needles had accumulated at Draco's feet. He kicked the pile and it went tumbling down the alter and scattered around the church.

"_All I need is you!" _Draco yelled to Hermione, as the sappy music reached a crescendo. He picked her up and ran out of the nunnery as fast as he could.

The nuns stared in shock.

Presently the priest entered.

He took in the hole in the ceiling, the drugs scattered around the church, and the lipstick stains on the alter. Then he closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. He addressed the nuns.

"I leave you alone for ten minutes, and _look what happens_!"

* * *

"I like to call it 'Wringley Brothers meets Cleopatra meets Steve Erwin.' It's my best plan yet, Wormtail," Lucius said with the characteristic maniacal glint in his eye. 

"Explain this to me, Lucius. Slowly, and without any hand gestures," Wormtail said wearily.

"First," said Lucius, "roll me and _The Weapon _up inside of this oriental rug. Then, load us inside of _the cannon _and BLAST US THROUGH POTTER'S WINDOW!"

Wormtail was beginning to lose all hope in Lucius's plans.

"What is _The Weapon?_" Wormtail asked tiredly.

"A crocodile, of course. Isn't it brilliant?" Lucius asked proudly.

Wormtail sagged. "What was your inspiration for picking this sort of creature?"

Lucius held up a manual titled_ How To Scare the Shit Out of People For Dummies; Literally! _

Wormtail had lost all hope in Lucius's plans. Literally.

After Wormtail had finished meticulously rolling both Lucius and the eight foot long crocodile inside the Persian rug, he levitated them both into the cannon.

"Wait, my less ambitious protégée! I need . . . that mop over there. And that curling iron."

Wormtail didn't even bother asking. He merely found the nearest mop and curling iron and brought them to Lucius obediently.

Within five minutes, Lucius had constructed an _exact replica _of Cleopatra's wig, which he placed ceremoniously on the crown of his head.

"Never forget your predecessors, Wormtail," Lucius whispered paternally.

"You were Egyptian?"

"Never mind that, Wormtail. Now blast me through Potter's dormitory window. I'm coming for you, Potter . . . _eat my croc!_"

Wormtail made no effort to visualize this scenario.

"Blasting off in three . . . two . . . one . . ."

* * *

Harry sat in the girl's dormitory, sipping a margarita on a jewel encrusted throne. He just so happened to be surrounded by the entire female population of Hogwarts and had obtained the exclusive attention of the media. 

An unidentified Mariachi band played in the background, and Harry leaned back lazily, sipping his margarita.

"Unlike most self-obsessed . . ." he stopped to look in the mirror and fixed his bangs importantly, " . . . celebrities, I always have maintained . . ."

Presently there was a colossal explosion from outside the castle, and a few seconds later the window shattered. An oriental carpet unrolled at Harry's feet, and some sort of Egyptian dancer emerged. The Mariachi band began to play Egyptian music, and the strange dancer moved his hands like a snake in front of his face. Suddenly an eight foot crocodile assailed the dancer from behind, and the dancer yelled, "Wrestle the croc!"

"You guys are too much," Harry said casually, with an arrogant wave of his hand. "You ordered entertainment too? This is like a mix of Steve Erwin, Cleopatra, and the Wringley Brothers!"

The wig fell off as the Egyptian and the crocodile wrestled, and sudden everyone was aware of His True Identity.

The crowd gasped. "Lucius," they said as a whole.

Rita Skeeter pushed her way through the mob of people and leaned closer to Lucius and the crocodile.

"Lucius Malfoy . . ." she reported in a newscaster's voice, "This is your thirdthrawted assassination attempt in three days! How does it feel to be a complete and utter _failure_?"

Lucius frowned.

The crocodile commenced in tearing her head off.

The cameramen moved in closer, completely unfazed. "This is_ great _footage!" the cameraman cried, watching his anchorman become torn to shreds.

* * *

Snape turned off the news broadcast. 

He had never liked the media.

((**A.N. **Pressing the review button below will not cost you any money.

Nor will it bring insurance marketers down upon your household.

Nor will you become a victim of identity theft.

None of these things will happen to you. We promise.))


	7. You're Fired and I Quit

Chapter 7; You're Fired and I Quit

* * *

Ginny had always been a problematic child.

The new, Evil Ginny brought new meaning to the word _problematic. _

"_Potter," _Evil Ginny hissed satanically as she strode down the corridor, unknowingly mimicking her brother.

Good Ginny trailed along desperately behind her, trying to get a word in around Evil Ginny's sadistic hissing.

Good Ginny began lecturing. "Have you ever considered rethinking your principles, ethics, morals, or values? Have you ever even once questioned your motives for wanting to kill Harry? I mean, being evil for the sake of being evil is just hypocritical, wouldn't you agree? Most evil masterminds at least have a _motive _for being sadistic and apathetic. But you . . . you don't even have a reason! I'm just saying that you haven't considered the philosophical and moral repercussions that your actions will have. You haven't, have you? I believe that you're just misunderstood, all evil people are just misunderstood, you don't really have a _reason _for killing these people! In fact, you just need a hug!"

Evil Ginny, who had been practicing necromancy quietly in the corner, hissed, "I don't need you anymore! Conscience was never good for anything anyway!"

Good Ginny shook her head. This problem was beyond her own remedy. She needed a professional opinion.

Severus Snape and Simon Cowell stared one another down.

Snape hissed darkly. "Your appointment time is up, Mr. Cowell."

Simon Cowell stood up and made for the door. "That appointment was _ghastly,_" Cowell said cuttingly, in a fake British accent. "You are possibly the _worst_ psychiatrist on the face of the earth."

Simon stomped out pompously and slammed the door.

He had never liked reality T.V. shows.

"Next on this atrocious appointment list is . . . it can't be . . . Donald Trump?"

The door opened. Donald Trump and his attendants walked in and stood stiffly, trying to look intimidating. Trump spoke.

"Severus Snape, that is the ninety first customer you have driven away. I'm sorry to say this, but . . ."

Trump pointed an accusing finger at him and glared.

"YOU'RE _FIRED_."

Snape was absolutely spitting with rage. "That toupee isn't fooling anyone," Snape snarled with a leer.

"Well . . ." said Trump, apparently at a loss for words, "You're _fired._"

This seemed to be the extent of his vocabulary.

Smirking darkly, Snape slammed the door shut after Trump.

There was a knock on the door.

He twitched.

Who could it possibly be now?

He looked at his appointment timetable. _Not another Weasely, _he thought wearily.

It was, in fact, the same Weasely that had visited him last time. Or rather, half of her.

"Professor Snape?"

He let out a sigh of relief. _At least it's the good one._

"Of course I'm the good one," Good Ginny said agreeably, "but I have a problem!"

"I knew you'd be back, Weasely," Snape said bitterly, "let me guess . . . you have somehow landed yourself in the exceedingly pathetic predicament of having an Evil Twin Sister who is systematically planning Harry Potter's demise using a number of somewhat illegal and undeniably inhuman enchantments which include but are not limited to Demonic Summoning, Unforgivables, spontaneous combustion, necromancy, and Distributing Phone Numbers to Insurance Marketers."

"Exactly, Professor! I knew you'd understand! Evil Ginny will stop at _nothing_ to kill Harry . . .!" she cried, looking somewhat upset.

Snape tapped his quill on the desk in an agitated manner.

"And your point is . . .?"

Good Ginny gasped. "How could you tolerate the murder of a-nother human being!"

"_Potter isn't human_," Snape hissed hatefully, _"neither was his father, neither was his grandfather, neither was his great Uncle Eulfrid."_

"Is that the one who left the treasure?" she asked curiously, having heard of Lucius' evil plan.

"Indeed," said Snape.

"What should I do?" she asked fearfully. "Evil Ginny is out to destroy the world!"

Snape smirked.

He had known this was going to happen. He had a plan to get rid of Potter, Weasely, and Evil Ginny once and for all. _And_ he wouldn't involve himself. _And _he would move to Hawaii without having to pay airfare expenses.

"How will you do that? There's no avoiding airfare expenses, you know," Ginny chimed in.

"_Shut up_, Weasely. Stop reading my mind."

"I'm not reading your mind, I'm reading your lips."

"How would you like to read my _fist_?" Snape said wickedly. Once he had calmed, he said, "I do have a . . . solution. Take this Time-Turner, go back in Time, and fix what you have done. If you want to save yourself, _bring more back into the future._"

"What do you mean?"

"Leave me, child. I want to drink this bourbon and wallow in my own self-invented misery."

* * *

Ginny flipped the Time-Turner over and began spinning.

"Cheer up, now, Lucius. This isn't the _worst _plan you've ever had. There was that one time in the eighties when you decided to . . ."

"Never mention the eighties to me, Wormtail," Lucius hissed, glancing around in a paranoid fashion.

"Um . . . Lucius?" asked Wormtail quietly.

"What?" came his hiss.

"Have you ever considered . . . well . . . maybe just performing Avada Kedavra on the Potter brat?"

"Shut _up, _Wormtail!" Lucius snapped condescendingly. "That's the most _ridiculous _scheme I've ever heard. Do you even realize how many flaws there are in that plan?"

"Name one," Wormtail replied, crossing his arms.

Lucius had a flashback.

_It was 1981._

"_We have but one, chance, Wormtail," Lucius whispered to his comrade. "One chance to eliminate Harry Potter."_

_The brat was only one year old. Little did they know, Voldemort was already inside. _

_A baby was crying somewhere._

_They somehow managed to climb through the second story window, and they crouched behind the crib. _

_From across the room, a tall man in a dark cloak was facing the crying baby. _

"_It's probably James," Lucius whispered._

_It wasn't James. _

"_On my mark, Wormtail, we attack the baby," Lucius said quietly. _

_The man in the dark cloak raised his wand._

"_I'll get rid of the baby, as well as the parents," said the man. _

_The figure in the dark cloak who was really Voldemort sent a green spell flying across the room. It missed the crib. Almost immediately after, Wormtail and Lucius fired the Killing Curse. It also missed the crib..._

_...And slammed right into Voldemort's chest._

_There sounded a screeching, bubbling cry, and the creature that Lucius realized Wasn't Really James seemed to melt into the ground._

_Harry Potter wriggled in the crib, completely unscathed. _

_Sirius Black ran into the room, and Lucius ducked. _

"_It's a miracle," whispered Sirius reverently, lifting the baby out of the crib._

"_Lucius? _Lucius!" cried Wormtail worriedly.

"I have a plan," said Lucius quietly.

"Oh really," said Wormtail skeptically.

"It's a good plan."

"That's an improvement."

"_First,_" said Lucius, regaining his slightly maniacal veneration, "we fly to America and join _American Idol_. _Then . . . _once we win the money, we fly to Mexico and compile an army of abstract MariachiBandsAfter that, we fly to Cambodia and teach them guerilla warfare tactics. Then we fly to Hogwarts, and form Mariachi ranks around the walls. Then we start playing _bad Mexican music_ and blow down the walls with the high frequency cornets, just like in the Tale of Jericho(never forget your predecessors, Wormtail)! Then we inconspicuously sneak into the boys dormitory and while everyone else is distracted by the grenade wielding Mariachi Bands, we don Mexican sombreros and attack Potter in his sleep. Potter has a weakness for Mariachi bands, Wormtail. He won't know what hit him."

"You know what, Lucius?" Wormtail said earnestly.

"What?"

"That's a great plan. Have fun carrying it out."

"Huh?"

"I _quit_,"Wormtail said blatantly, and walked away.

"Never mind that, Wormtail," Lucius said pompously, "Never mind that at all. Wait . . . _what? _Wormtail!"

There was silence.

"Fine!" Lucius yelled to his retreating accomplice. "I never needed you! All you ever did was hold me up! I . . . I'll . . . I'll do it myself! Mark my words, Wormtail! There will be an army of fully trained Mariachi bands here by Friday!"

Lucius went off to buy a plane ticket to America.


	8. When Mariachi Bands Attack

((**A.N**. Disclaimer: If you are an extra-terrestrial, do not be offended. Same goes to bikers, sock puppets, practicing physicians, and the Prime Minister of Britian. Sorry Tony...)) 

**Chapter 8**; When Mariachi Bands Attack

"Here's what I say, Granger," Draco said, slapping his shot glass down on the bar table. "I say we need to get rid of this _Potter _character."

"And why do we need to do that?" she asked drunkenly, tossing her empty champagne glass behind her back. It shattered nosily.

"Because he has the other piece of the Amulet of Destiny," Draco replied, swaying back and forth on the barstool.

"What does that thing do, exactly?"

"Well . . . it's . . . I guess . . . it's just a stupid Amulet. God, who _wrote _this piece of crap?" he muttered, looking up at the ceiling. "Some person named LampsAreCool. Well, lamps _aren't_ cool!"

A pool ball cracked him over the head promptly.

Draco turned around slowly. There was a seven foot neanderthal-biker behind him.

"Did you _throw _this?" Draco asked, picking up the ball and holding it up to the biker's face.

"As a matter of fact I did."

"Do you want to fight?" Draco asked insidiously.

"As a matter of fact I do."

"Are we going to have to take this outside?" Draco asked.

"As a matter of fact we will."

They walked outside and a circled formed around the two contenders.

"Take my cloak, Granger," Draco said, tossing his cloak to her. "Let me teach you a thing or two about boxing. It's all about the accuracy. You want a piece of me, pal?"

"No. I want the whole thing. You mess with the author, and you mess the system!"

The neanderthal delivered a solid uppercut to Draco's chin. Draco reeled back, unfazed.

"I let him have that one," Draco gasped, "I was just warming up."

The Slytherin wound up and threw a punch at the biker, who didn't even blink.

"This isn't even worth my time," the biker said, losing interest in the situation. He knocked Draco out with one hit.

* * *

It was Friday. Harry lounged aristocratically on his double king-sized bed.

Ginny entered the room. She was wearing a flowered sundress. "Hello, Harry," she said in a friendly tone. She ran away quickly.

Five seconds later, Ginny ran in. This time she wore a black cape and three-inch boots. "Potter," she hissed evilly.

Harry frowned. "Didn't you just . . .?"

"Did you see Ginny go by here?" she hissed again.

"Um . . . yeah," Harry said slowly, "in a sundress?"

"Yesssss! You better sleep with one eye open, Potter! Next time I see you, you're minnne!" she rasped.

He shrugged. All of them said that. He needed some fresh air, so he walked to the window. He thought he saw something in the distance. He squinted, and almost thought he could make out an army of . . . but no. That was impossible.

"I need my medication," he muttered, pulling out the rattlesnake venom. He still hadn't looked at the label. He downed it in one gulp.

"Ah, I feel so . . ."

He passed out on the bed.

* * *

Hermione wheeled Draco into the Emergency Ward at Hogwarts.

Draco's eyes slowly opened and he stared at Hermione. "Why are there two of you?" he asked her groggily.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hermione asked, sticking three fingers into the air.

"Twelve," Draco told her bossily. "I'm perfectly fine."

This was a Very Bad Thing Indeed.

The infirmary door banged open, and Harry Potter was wheeled in frantically, followed by Kron 4 News, the BBC, choice representatives from Witch Weekly magazine, and the Minister of Magic.

"Alert the Prime Minister," Draco drawled sarcastically, "Potter's gotten a paper cut."

"You're _wrong,_" yelled an enthusiastic fan who also happened to be Tony Blair, "Harry the Great cut himself on a _toasting fork_, you . . . stupid!"

"Oh my God!" Draco said, covering his mouth in shock. "A toasting fork? How will he _ever _make it through? Better alert the Queen of England . . . oh wait, never mind," he sneered viciously, "_she's already here!"_

Everyone in the room glared at him stonily.

"Well, _I _thought it was funny," Hermione said with a shrug.

"And why are _you_ here, Malfoy?" Harry asked the blond haired boy, crossing his arms self-importantly. "Got ants in your pants!"

Everyone in the room save Draco and Hermione burst into uproarious laughter at the unauthorized excuse for a passable insult. Some guy with a drum set in the back hit the drums and crashed a cymbal. The cameramen zoomed in on Harry's smug face.

"Or has the cat got your tongue?" cried Harry senselessly, obtaining the same sickening attention from his fan club.

In that moment, Draco came to the obviously justifiable conclusion that Potter needed to die an imminent and abusive death.

Any further boisterous bantering was halted by the arrival of the doctor. Wait . . . when was the last time there had been a doctor at Hogwarts?

"_Potter,_"the Doctor hissed sadistically. "I mean . . . good day, my . . . esteemed patients. I am Dr. . . . Mort. I need to perform an easy little . . . _check-up._"

The Doctor commenced in vaporizing the entirety of Harry's grotesquely large fan-club with his wand. Draco noticed that the physician had abnormally long fingers. _A coincidence? _Draco mused to himself. _I think not._

The Doctor twirled a knife in his fingers and smirked evilly at Harry.

"Is there anyone in the room who gets . . . queasy . . . at the sight of streaming blood, innards, or mutilated body parts?"

"Depends on who's blood it is," Draco sneered maliciously, smirking at Harry.

The Doctor raised the gleaming knife above his head.

An object whizzed through the air and knocked the knife out of The Doctor's hands. The white robed man turned angrily to look at the intruder.

"I have never tolerated identity theft," came the silky voice.

"Severus Snape," Dr. Mort said, narrowing his eyes.

"You didn't really think I'd let you kill the Potter brat on your own . . ." Snape purred with a smirk. "Did you . . . _Voldemort?_"

Duh nun . . . NUH.

Dr. Mort took off his Doctor's mask and revealed His True Identity.

Harry gasped in shock. Everyone else in the room looked totally unsurprised at this revelation.

"Time to reveal a second twist," Hermione said with a smirk.

"I'm not injured!" Draco hissed, jumping out of bed and pointing his wand at Harry. Hermione, too, pointed a loaded pistol at Harry.

"Time for some payback, Potter," Hermione sneered maliciously. "I never did forgive you for that time you broke up with me on our anniversary. You're a dead man."

"Besides," Draco continued, the wand aimed directly at Harry's heart, "you have the other piece of . . . the Amulet of Destiny!"

"Ah, this old trinket?" Harry said calmly, pulling the other half out of his shirt. "I almost gave this thing away to one of my old girlfriends. She rather liked it, if I remember correctly."

"That was me," Hermione said scornfully.

"Was it?" Harry asked dreamily. "I never remember those kinds of things . . ."

"I mailed it back to you," Hermione told him hatefully, "to get rid of the memories."

"Well, you can have it now," Harry said casually, tossing the other half to Draco. "You are my brother, after all."

No one picked up on the cheesiness of the aforementioned line.

Smirking, Draco raised the pieces of the medallion and placed them together.

* * *

"We have but one chance, Sock-tail," Lucius whispered, "to break into Hogwarts with this army of grenade-wielding Mariachi bands and get rid of Potter once and for all."

The sock puppet on Lucius's hand nodded.

Lucius looked desolately at the sock puppet. It just wasn't the same.

"Diego, take the left passage," Lucius whispered suddenly. "Juan, go the right. Jose, you come into the Infirmary with me! That's it, Potter! You're going down! _Eat my maraca_!"

Lucius sprinted for the infirmary . . . and ran straight into Wormtail.

"Wormtail! I mean . . . what are you doing here?" Lucius asked suspiciously.

"I have a few questions," Wormtail asked softly. "The main one is . . . _how_ did you win American Idol?"

"Never mind that, Wormtail," Lucius said dismissively. "Now get out of my way. You're holding my men up."

"_No_," Wormtail said quietly, "not this time, Lucius. This time, _we fight_."

He pulled out an ambiguous sombrero and placed it on his head.

Lucius promptly threw Sock-tail out the window.

"Welcome back, Wormtail."

* * *

Draco placed the two pieces of the amulet together.

_Something happened. _

Lucius and Wormtail burst into the Infirmary suddenly. They started playing Bad Mexican Music with their trumpets.

Snape had never liked Mexican music.

Somebody, who shared the general sentiment of the others, grabbed the trumpets away from Lucius and Wormtail.

"That was the most Godawful thing I've ever heard in my life," Snape muttered disgustedly.

"Well this is Godawful fanfiction!" someone yelled in the background.

There were smashes outside the Infirmary, and cries of battle. What was going on?

There was a sadistic hiss from the doorway and Ginny burst in.

"Where's the other one?" Snape asked wearily. Everyone else seemed really confused.

"Other _Ginny?_" the girl whispered evilly. "My inadequate counterpart . . . _I hate her . . . . _apparently went back in time to try to . . . _fix everything . . . _and she accidentally brought more Ginnys with her. And those Ginnys brought more Ginnys. But now . . . _yesss, now . . . _I have compiled my very own army of Evil Ginnys! You're dead now, Potter! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Harry's eyes were darting back and forth between parties as if he were watching a mildly interesting tennis match. He sipped more champagne.

"Another army?" Voldemort said wearily. "And I thought I was the only one bent on world domination. Bellatrix, get the Death Eaters over here . . . I'm going to need back up. Alright . . . Are there any more _armies _that feel the need to make themselves known?"

The Infirmary door flew off the hinge from being thrown open dramatically too many times.

Harry's legion of fan girls (led by Colin Creevy, of course), flooded into the infirmary at Voldemort's request. The Dark Lord rolled his eyes.

"Get out of here," he said wearily, "Potter's a little too preoccupied with staying alive to sign autographs at this point."

Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Ginny, Jose, Lucius, Wormtail, Ginny, Voldemort, Colin, Snape, and the fan girls looked over at Harry.

He was talking casually to Madame Pomfrey. "Yeah, that's _two _virgin daiquiris, okay?"

"Oh, _yeah,_" Draco sneered sarcastically, "he's putting up a valiant struggle over there, that much is obvious."

"Whatever," Voldemort said in a dismissive tone. "Now that we're all done with . . . _special appearances . . . _why don't we finish what we all actually came here to do? Die, Potter!"

Voldemort raised his wand threateningly.

Boom.

Silence.

BOOM.

Silence.

A random glass of water on the table rippled ominously.

BOOM.

Silence.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The roof blew off.


	9. Muffins of Mass Destruction

* * *

**Chapter 9**; Muffins of Mass Destruction

* * *

The roof blew off.

An alien hovercraft loomed menacingly above the Infirmary, drenching the room in liquid shadow.

"I gotta get me one of those," Voldemort marveled in an awe-filled voice.

Snape had never enjoyed low-budget science fiction films.

Ron Weasely was visible in the cockpit, grinning maniacally. A sixteen foot long laser gun, disproportionate to the spacecraft, lowered from the bottom of the ship, which was aimed directly at Harry Potter.

Lucius jumped in the way. "There is no way you're going to kill him without us."

"What makes you think you'll be in control?" Ron retorted.

"What makes you think I won't?" Lucius answered. They commenced in arguing both and forth.

"What makes you think I'll let you?"

"What makes you think you can stop me?"

"What makes you think you're mighty enough to stop me from stopping you?"

"What makes you think you can confuse me with all these stupid word games!" Lucius roared, losing his temper altogether. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Shut up!" Ron cried. He pushed a red lever forward with a berserk cackle. "Die, Potter . . . DIE!"

He blew a humongous hole in the wall right next to Harry's head.

Harry spread his arms wide, smiling in a condescending fashion. "A worthy effort, Ron. Good thing you weren't _really _trying to shoot me or else I'd have to declare that you have the worst aim I've ever seen in my life."

Ron was hyperventilating with hate, muttering, "Die Potter, die Potter, die Potter . . ."

Harry leaned his head on his hand and took a sip of his daiquiri. "You know, Ron, I worry about you. Sometimes I get this feeling that you're _actually_ a bit angry with me or something, get what I'm saying? Another butterbeer, please, Madame Pomfrey . . ."

Ron frothed at the mouth in utter hatred. The demonic boy jumped out of the cockpit, glass exploding unrealistically around him. He had two machine guns in his hands, and commenced in firing two hundred rounds erratically, to assure that Harry wouldn't escape.

When all the smoke cleared, Ron glanced around hungrily for Harry's dead body. He had decimated everything and everyone in sight, save Hermione, Draco, Voldemort, Snape, Lucius, Wormtail, Good and Evil Ginny, and . . . how was it possible?

Potter.

The green eyed boy smirked insolently from the bed, somehow managing to have dodged all two hundred rounds.

"I have a plan," muttered Lucius.

The window shattered.

A crazed Bulgarian mounted on a broom tumbled through the window, breathing heavily.

"Die, you vill, Potter!" Krum cried, unsheathing his wand. "Potter, you vill die!"

Everything in the room looked at him, then looked away.

"I have a _plan_," said Lucius more determinedly.

"Is this some kind of soap opera?" Harry asked with a laugh. "I mean, if you were really trying to kill me, I'd be dead by now, right? You're like . . . low budget actors or something. You guys are such clowns."

"Or maybe we're all just _muffins_," considered Draco philosophically. He stared out moodily at the icy September evening, meditating on the significance of the statement.

A few people shifted on their feet uncomfortably as twilight zone music started playing in the background. The occupants of the Infirmary darted suspicious glances at one another, disturbed at the thought that there was a muffin amongst them.

Paranoia ensued.

"Alright," Ron roared, swinging his guns around indefinitely, "_who's the muffin here_!"

They stared fearfully into the barrels of his machine guns.

"_Someone tell me who the muffin is!_"

"It could be any of us," whispered Hermione fearfully, glancing around. "Even you, Ron Weasley."

"Never!" spat Ron disgustedly, appalled at the very _thought _of being a muffin.

"Right there!" cried Evil Ginny, aiming her gun forcefully at the back of the room.

Everyone whirled around to see a five foot blueberry muffin, previously unnoticed, comfortably wedged in the corner.

Pandemonium ensued.

"Get it!" Voldemort roared, and Ron jumped forward, aiming his guns at the motionless blueberry muffin in the corner.

Everyone fired simultaneously, and when they had finished shooting, only a blackened hunk of dough remained.

"That was a close one," Lucius muttered, wiping his brow. "Good thinking, my boy."

A battalion of uniformed men stormed self-importantly into the Infirmary, guns raised.

"The UN," Snape muttered.

He had never liked the UN weapons inspectors.

"Viktor Krum!" the leader of the group roared. "We have reason to believe that you are stockpiling . . . _muffins of mass destruction!_"

Two men seized Krum and tackled him to the ground. Everyone else watched in livid fascination.

There was a man standing in the corner who looked suspiciously like George W. Bush. He was muttering something that sounded like, "_Nu-cu-lar...nu-cu-lar muffins... gonna smoke em' out_!"

"You have no proof! No proof, you have!" Krum cried angrily.

"Don't deny it!" cried the UN weapons inspector. "We have _proof! _Right here! Ever heard of something called _Doppler radar_?"

"No," Snape leered rudely.

Silence.

The inspector pulled out a complicated chart that had absolutely nothing to do with radar or muffins and pointed at it, as if this would convince everyone.

"We saw you walk _into _the muffin shop, we saw you walk _out _of the muffin shop, we saw you walk _into _the warehouse, we saw you walk _out _of the warehouse–"

"There _is _no warehouse," Snape pointed out blatantly.

The inspector seemed momentarily at a loss for words.

"Well . . ." he said at last, "your _mom _went to Canada where she was selling synthetic copper earrings to save up money to go to Jewish college, because she was majoring in bioengineering, but the earrings gave her lyme disease so she got placed in an underfunded hospital in Eastern Mexico."

Snape had never liked "your mom" jokes.

"Anyways," the UN official continued importantly, "you are under arrest, Viktor Krum. You'll have to come with us for interrogation and exile in Angola."

They frog-marched Krum out of the room.

"_Nu-cu-lar..." _muttered Bush as they left.

"I have a plan," Lucius continued.

* * *

-ten minutes later-

"So let me get this straight," Wormtail said to Lucius. "You're saying we should _all _put a finger on that gun and aim it at Potter?"

"Precisely, Wormtail," Lucius muttered. "Precisely."

"That way," growled Voldemort, "we'll all get the revenge we've always wanted."

"Do it _nowwwwww_!" hissed demonic Ron, forked tongue flaring out in anticipation.

They all reached out and placed a finger on the trigger of Ron's ten foot bazooka.

"On three," Voldemort said excitedly.

"THREE!" Evil Ginny screamed.

Harry sat unconcernedly on the bed, where he had not moved from since the beginning of this overly drawn out scene. "Now, now, Ginny, certainly you've learned how to count to three. If you want to make this scene properly dramatic, you'll have to use all the numbers between one and three. Shall I help you lot out?" he chortled, pouring Chateau into his fluted champagne glass. "One . . . two . . .!"

There sounded a profound bang, and everything tapered into slow motion. The midnight black bullet hurtled through the pristine air in a poetic and glorious shower of blood and gore spewing everywhere. The head was so utterly destroyed that the beholder could perhaps not fathom what creature it had been in the first place. It was astoundingly artistic, and a heavenly light emanated down upon the scene where Harry Potter's head had been blown to shreds, pieces of the ear hanging dreadfully . . .

"Stop it!" cried Good Ginny. "The imagery! The imagery!"

Snape had closed his eyes, as if listening to a beautiful elegy.

The body collapsed onto the bed.

Harry Potter was, indeed, dead.

Applause ensued.

THE END . . .?

((A.N. That's right, folks, this is not actually THE END... hence the three ?'s. So stay tuned.))


	10. Galileo Figuro

((**A.N**. Well, this is really the last chapter of our blasphemous, horribly written, angsty, dramatic, iambic-pentameter riddled, Shakespeare-filled, celebrity laden, Greek-mythology centered, barely comprehensible, and of course, muffin-speckled tale. Any assorted Queen lyrics, Star Wars quotes, Shakespeare allusions, and Greek references are not our original ideas. We don't want to claim ownership of the Star Wars script. It was so . . . good and all that we don't deserve that . . . erm . . . honor. So good night and good luck.))

* * *

Chapter 10; Galileo figuro 

"Tequila!" shouted Lucius, and the army of Mariachi bands began playing upbeat music. Streamers came down from the ceiling, and more than one good wife hung out her laundry to dry.

Harry Potter was dead. The world could celebrate.

Lucius hooked Harry's body up to a random chariot and dragged it around the hospital wing, grim expression fully intact.

"Never forget your predecessors, Wormtail," he muttered in satisfaction, alluding to Achilles dragging Hector's body around.

Ron and Ginny performed ritualistic necromancy in a ring of fire. Ron frothed at the mouth, happier than he had ever been in his somewhat dysfunctional life.

"It is _done,_" Draco said with a dramatic sigh, dropping his miraculously bloody sword.

"_I am glad to be with you Draco_," Hermione schmoozed dramatically, "_here at the end of all things_."

"I feel . . . cold," Voldemort said desolately.

"You're always cold," Snape pointed out sardonically.

This uproarious celebration went on for about two minutes. For that miraculous, beautiful two minutes, the universe was in perfect, harmonious balance.

There came a voice from the doorway. It was an impossibly familiar voice. It snaked into their brains like an off-key note.

"Did someone say 'tequila?'"

Harry stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes mocking every one of them individually.

"It's not possible," Draco said slowly.

"Two Potters . . ." Lucius considered.

"How can it . . . be?" Voldemort insinuated quietly.

Snape's eye twitched convulsively.

He had never appreciated unauthorized resurrection.

Silence.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" came Ron's earsplitting roar.

"YOUBASTARDPOTTERGODDAMNITWHATTHEHELLIKILLYOUANDTHENI'LLBYING YOURANDTHENEAT APILEOF!$DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEBLEHBLAHBNLOOOOSLIJGFDAKLJFKLDSUJKLADJDIIIE!"

"That's not possible either," Draco piped in, "but it certainly sounds painful."

Harry smirked insolently and pushed himself off of the doorframe.

The only remaining intact wall blew open and Ashton Kutcher leapt out into the fray. His sideways hat, diamond necklace, and pimped glasses shone in the overhead light.

"You got PUNK'D!" Ashton said, huge grin splitting across his face.

Someone shot him.

"Then who's that guy?" Hermione asked incredulously, pointing to the mangled body on the bed..

"Stunt double," Harry said with a wave of his hand, as if this made everything okay.

At this point, everyone ignored Ron completely, and yet he still went on with his tirade. "KINSSNOTPOSSSSSSSSIBLEANATOMICALLYINACCURATEPIECEOFSCUMYOULOADOFSLIMEGETBLASTEDOFFOFTHEFACEOFTHEEARTHANDALLTHEWAYTO$#&($(#!"

"Ron, Ron," Harry said condescendingly, in much the same fashion as his predecessor Lockhart, "we all know you love the spotlight, but shouting expletives at poor Ashton Kutcher over there is just not going to get you the kind of attention you so desperately crave. It's good to have a hero, Ron, and I know you look up to me (everybody does), but you should never try to surpass me. Is that champagne you're drinking? Not a lot of people know this about me, but I do enjoy a choice expensive alcoholic beverage every now and then. Anyone have a corkscrew? Anyone?"

He looked around expectantly.

Multiple types of weapons were aimed at him from all sides, but there seemed to be no corkscrew in sight.

"Guess I'll just have to use my own, then," Harry said cheerfully, and pulled out a bottle of champagne and a corkscrew from his pocket.

Pop.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Ron screamed until he was wildly consumed with his own demonic flames. Moments later, nothing remained but a small pile of ash.

Snape had never believed in spontaneous combustion.

Good Ginny leapt in front of Harry suddenly, a look of determination on her valiant face.

"Don't kill him," she said desperately. "He never did anything."

"He lived," Snape countered slowly.

"But what of our morals, our values, our-"

Someone shot Ginny too.

"_Aim for Potter!_" Voldemort cried, his voice a high frequency nightmare. " This is a crisis! _We're low on ammo, here, people!_ Who shot that? Step forward!"

No one moved.

"Alright then!" Voldemort roared. "Cowards! Worms! Insects! I don't need you! I'd be better without you! Yeah, you better walk away..."

The army deserted him.

"No," came a sadistic hiss from the corner. Evil Ginny shrieked at the sight of her dead twin on the ground. "It cannot be. If she dies, I go with her..."

"Any last words?" Draco asked furtively.

"We are all . . . _lost_," Evil Ginny said with her final gasp.

"Isn't that a little obvious?" Hermione asked taciturnly. "We've seen alien spaceships, giant squids, grenade-wielding mariachi bands, four foot muffins, Ashton Kutcher, the UN, an army of clones, at least ten horrific death scenes, and it's past two an we're STILL being served free alcoholic beverages."

"You're right," Draco said quietly.

"You guys _are _getting a little tipsy," Harry commented through another mouthful of champagne. "Best you all turn in for the night, eh?"

Someone tried to shoot him. They were out of ammo.

"Everyone's out of ammo!" Voldemort cried in despair.

"Wormtail . . ." Lucius hissed in what he believed to be an inconspicuous voice, or else Wormtail hoped he never would have used it.

"What?"

Lucius "snuck" over to Wormtail and whispered in his ear.

"I have but one shot left, Wormtail. One shot to kill Harry Potter."

"Use it," Wormtail hissed immediately, surprised at their luck. Harry loitered unsuspectingly near the door. It was the perfect opportunity.

"No," Lucius said slowly.

Wormtail stared at him blankly, too afraid to ask why not.

"Because I have a plan, Wormtail. A good plan."

"Like the crocodile plan?"

"Better," Lucius said, with an absolutely insane look in his eyes.

"No!" Wormtail wailed in despair. "All is lost . . ."

"Stop it! You're blowing our cover!"

"You have no cover," Snape pointed out from across the room.

"Never mind that," Lucius said angrily. "Never mind that at all. Here's the plan. _We wait for the dawn._"

"What?"

"The dawn, Wormtail. We wait for it. Then the heroic pose will go down in history, will be carved in stone for all the ages."

"No comprendo," said a random mariachi band figure.

Wormtail shared this sentiment entirely.

"The dawn will come soon, Wormtail," Lucius whispered. "You will see."

"It's 2am," Snape pointed out sardonically. Lucius aimed his gun at Harry, unfazed.

"What now?"

"We wait."

* * *

_Two hours later_ . . . 

"I'm not waiting any longer!" Voldemort roared. "This is crap! Why isn't he dead? Why isn't he dying?"

"Calm down now, My Lord," an attendant said quietly. "Just kill the Potter brat . . ."

"POTTER!" Voldemort cried in rage.

"It's quite late," Harry said with a smile, "and if I don't go to bed soon, I'm going to have a hangover. Oh, wait . . . I don't get hangovers. Silly me."

"Where is the justice in this?" Draco asked no one in particular.

"POTTER!" Voldemort said again, "POTTER! . . . POTTER! . . . POTTER!"

"Alright, alright," Harry told him as he pulled out his wand. "I suppose we could do a quickie. I think I remember some good spells . . . let's see . . . Avada . . . Kedavra?"

Harry shot a green light toward Voldemort.

"NooOoOoOoO!" came a disembodied voice, and the camera froze and rotated 360 degrees as Dumbledore jumped valiantly in front of Voldemort.

It was over in an instant. Dumbledore had fallen.

"WHHHHYYYYY!" Voldemort sobbed pathetically at Dumbledore's fallen body. "Oh Dumbledore, Dumbledore, wherefore art thou . . . Dumbledore."

"Isn't that obvious?" Snape quipped.

"Tempt not a desperate man!" Voldemort roared at Snape. He grabbed a knife. "I loved him, damn you! A secret love!"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"OH HAPPY DAGGER!" Voldemort wailed, and plunged the blade into his tormented heart.

"The sky lightens, Wormtail," Lucius said from his conspicuous position.

"Screw that!" Wormtail cried. "Just shoot him already!"

"The _dawn, _Wormtail. Patience, I say. _Patience._"

"Why are you doing this to us?" Wormtail asked forlornly.

Lucius turned his attention away from the horizon. "How many times have I _told _you, Wormtail . . ."

"No!"

"Harry Potter's Great Uncle Eulfrid led a splendid expedition to Kyrgtzstan where he uncovered an ancient El Salvadorian Easy Bake Oven, where inside he discovered the Amulet of Destiny. But he found that a Bajak Flux Capacitor had disintegrated the Amulet so he went back to the city bus but it was all in vain . . . but that wasn't even the beginning. _It was the end. _Because he traveled back in time . . ."

* * *

(An hour later) 

"And that, Wormtail, was how the Sri Lankan brigands found him curled up in a ball dicing onions in his ex-girlfriend's apartment."

At this point everyone present sat around a makeshift bonfire "toasting" marshmallows and listening avidly to Lucius's story.

"But wait," said Hermione, "what became of the silhouetteo of a man who did the fandango with

Scaramouche?"

"Galileo."

They leaned forward. "Galileo?"

"Galileo figuro."

"Mama mia," Wormtail said. "Very, very frightening."

Lucius suddenly leapt up. "But, soft! What light in yonder window breaks? 'Tis the east, and Potter is the sun!"

"You're correct, Lucius," Harry replied, stroking his chin. "The poetry of my lips and nose do recall the features of the sun god, Helios."

"I am blinded," Snape notified them.

Lucius faced Harry and raised the gun, trying and failing to shield his eyes from the sun.

"Lucius, shouldn't you be facing the other direction?" Wormtail asked apprehensively.

"It is time!" Lucius announced, and cocked the trigger.

Suddenly Harry bent down. "What's this? A golden box . . . perchance, a chest. 'Tis Uncle Eulfrid's treasure, I daresay. But 'lo, am I mistaken . . .? Could it be?"

Lucius twitched. "Treasure? Eulfrid? Hark! Salvation's mine!"

Wormtail cried, "The dawn! Your plan! The trigger! Pull it now!"

"I'll see him finished, this I surely vow," Hermione claimed.

"For Potter is a large, unsightly cow!" Draco added.

Snape blinked. "You fools, I'm sick of this iambic shit."

Lucius snapped out of it. "The treasure, Potter! Hand it here, I say!"

"Well, technically," Harry drawled, "it is my treasure."

"Not for long," Lucius announced dramatically. He pulled the trigger.

In slow motion, the bullet traversed the sunlit landscape and sailed between toward Harry Potter.

Impossibly, yet somehow believably , the bullet changed course and instead headed between Harry's feet. It ricocheted off of the corner of the golden chest and reversed direction toward the origin.

It met its mark in Lucius's chest.

"Wormtail!" Lucius cried, eyes aglow. "Immortality is mine!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "No one reads the Evil Overlord List these days."

Lucius collapsed promptly.

"I was a fool to think we had to kill Potter, Wormtail," Lucius gasped. "I was a muffin."

"We were both muffins!" Wormtail sobbed, dropping to his knees beside Lucius.

"The treasure's ours, Wormtail. Hand me the chest, Wormtail. Let me feel it on my skin. Let me taste it. LET ME BATHE IN ITS GLOW."

Wormtail attempted to pull the treasure from the ground, but he realized he would need a shovel. And a shovel he did not have. So instead he handed Lucius the nearest maraca and handed it to Lucius.

Lucius stroked it with unseeing eyes. "Yesss," he sighed. "Yessssss."

"Lucius," Wormtail said desperately, "you need a hospital! You need medical aid."

"Never mind that . . . Wormtail," Lucius smiled absently. He closed his eyes. "Never mind that at . . ."

"All," Snape leered, and finished the sentence rudely as Lucius died.

Silence.

"Bury the treasure with him," Draco sniffed. He chugged some vodka to ease his emotional distress.

"Yes," Hermione added, "that would have pleased Lucius."

"Diego," Wormtail pleaded, "bury us both. . . together."

"Si."

Diego knocked Wormtail insensitively upside the head and dragged the bodies into a sewage containment ditch. Diego snatched the treasure and ran off.

"Someone should say a few last words for dear Lucius," Hermione said desolately.

"He was a pervert," announced Snape pitilessly.

He dropped a bouquet of flowers into the sewage containment.

"He was always so. . ." Hermione dropped a violet rose in the ditch and walked off.

Draco approached his father's body.

"You _never_ understood me! You _never _loved me! It is _all _your fault that I became the worthless piece of scum I am today! I hated you! My enemy! My nemesis! My _father_!" Draco continued dragging this useless scene out even longer. He kicked dirt in the sewage and stormed away.

"_No_."

Out of the shadows stepped Severus Snape, clad in a long foreboding black cape.

"_I am your father!_" Snape revealed, pointing his finger accusingly at Draco, then Harry.

Draco and Harry exchanged horrified glances. It was all so obvious. The handcuffs. The video tape. _The sandwich!_ Snape had had an affair with Lily. Snape had had an affair with Narcissa. _Snape had had an affair with Trump!_

"This is getting complicated," Draco acknowledged.

"Yes it is," Snape agreed. "Too complicated."

Harry decided at that point to forsake all moralistic or social values that had once been embedded into him by his surrogate grandfather and somewhat unhinged godfather who had met a slow and admittedly comical demise. Killed by drapery. Always a shame.

"Alright, alright, the game's up," Harry announced with an indulgent smile. "I know why you're all here."

"You've finally realized that no one _actually _likes you?" Draco asked, an expression of wild hope fleeting across his face. "You've finally realized that we've all come here to get reve . . ."

Harry spread his arms wide. "Autographs." He flashed a blinding smile.

They stared at him for an entire fifteen and three quarters seconds.

"I am beat," Snape concluded. He walked decisively off of the edge of the tower. They heard a distinct splat.

Harry's facial expression didn't change at all. He merely shifted his gaze toward Draco and Hermione.

"Next?" he called casually. "How about you, Malfoy? I may be your worst enemy, but my autograph is probably worth more than _your entire estate. _So what do you say? I'll do you the favor, I suppose . . . I'm a nice guy, after all."

Draco turned to Hermione, the only other survivor. "Remind me why he's still breathing."

"Does it matter?" answered Hermione. "Let's just kiss him."

Draco whirled around, his eyes narrowing. He pulled out a light saber. "What did you just say?"

"I said let's just kill him," Hermione corrected hastily.

Draco pointed his light saber at Harry. "You turned her against me! Don't make me kill you!"

"Draco," Hermione pleaded, "it was a typo, on the author's part! I meant 'kill,' not 'kiss!'"

" . . . Author?" Draco questioned softly. "What is this devilry you speak of?"

He suffocated her with the Dark Side of the Force.

Harry watched these events unfold as he would a mediocre opera. Then he looked at Draco. "Still up for that autograph?"

"You were like a brother to me!" Draco screamed. "You were the Chosen One! You were supposed to destroy the Sith, not join them! You were supposed to bring balance to the Force, not leave it in _darkness_!"

"Well that's too bad," said Harry, "because I have the higher ground, my young padawan!"

"YOU UNDERESTIMATE MY POWER."

Draco leapt toward Harry and miscalculated as he realized that he wasn't _actually _a Jedi. Harry side-stepped and Draco fell over the edge of the tower and into a chasm of lava.

He died.

"That was a bad movie anyway," Harry ruminated. "Well . . . anyone still want an autograph?"

He looked around. Everyone was dead.

"Saves me time, I suppose," Harry muttered offhandedly.

As he walked away from the scene of the crime, his zipper caught on a protruding branch and he was revealed to be not Harry Potter the Wizard, but Harry Potter the Muffin.

((A.N. And so ends our deeply moving tale. Give us your favorite quote, mmkay? It will make us happy.))


End file.
